


Something Wrong

by Kannika



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Asexual Conner Kent, Clark is a Good Brother, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Internalized Acephobia, Kon-El | Conner Kent Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kannika/pseuds/Kannika
Summary: “What are you thinking, Conner?” Clark asks.There’s something wrong with me.“I… I didn’t want to sleep with her.”"You said that. That's fine."He's notlistening.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent, background Conner Kent/ M'gann M'orzz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 112





	Something Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> More Superfam! This was tricky to write, but the idea refused to leave me alone, and all in all I'm pretty pleased with it now.
> 
> Please note that the language Conner uses is NOT meant to be correct. I wrote this from the POV of someone who has low self-esteem- has anyone else noticed that in YJ, that Conner has a very low opinion of himself? I could write an essay on his character, it's fascinating- and has no idea that asexuality exists. It's not talked about very much, and I definitely think the fact that he's a clone would make him even more anxious than a normal person about feeling different.
> 
> That being said, please let me know if you have any feedback! I always want to get better.

Conner stands outside of Clark’s apartment door and hesitates. 

It’s not new to be here, standing out in the hallway, but the anxiety crawling up his throat is… if not new, he had at least forgotten what it felt like. Clark and him haven’t quite grown comfortable with each other yet, but they have come to some agreements. Clark calls him ‘little brother’ now instead of ‘son’, and it was an odd transition but it was like the second that Clark said the word, it just clicked. The same way that it just clicked when he thought M’gann was gone and there was no thought in his head for the mission or bystanders or consequences when he bridged the gap and kissed her. It just felt right. Sometimes the others call him reckless or tell him he doesn’t think when he does things like that, when he feels the click and knows what he needs to do and just does it, but really, it’s the opposite. It’s the only time when his mind is calm. 

And he felt the pieces align when Clark called him ‘little brother’, because that meant that he had all of the belonging and some of the responsibility but Conner is his own person. Clark didn’t raise him, so he can’t be his dad, can’t tell him what to do except when he needs to or he can’t help himself. He can ask him to do things, though, and mostly, Conner is okay with it. It’s kind of nice, to have someone check up on him, to know that if he’s on a mission and things slide sideways he can call out and Clark will come to him in an instant. It’s belonging. Just like he feels with M’gann. 

…Felt with M’gann.

He feels sick to his stomach, just thinking about it, and his hand drops off of the door handle and back to his side. Maybe he shouldn’t talk to Clark about it. Maybe he should just… just do it. It can’t be that bad, right? Probably the opposite. Almost definitely the opposite. It’s just something different about him, something in his head that’s wrong. It doesn’t mean anything. 

He shouldn’t bother Clark with this. Mind made up, Conner breathes out and turns to walk back down the hall. 

The door opens as he turns. 

He blinks at Clark, who doesn’t look surprised to see him, and understands why he felt like they had installed security cameras in the hallway that they didn’t tell him about. “Were you watching me?”

Clark shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I heard someone outside and I wasn’t expecting anyone. You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“I… didn’t know I was coming.”

Clark’s brow furrows, and he opens the door wider and steps out into the hallway with him, glancing around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Conner’s skin feels hot; this is so _stupid,_ to get Clark so worried over nothing. It’s not a superhero problem. It’s barely even a normal person problem. He shouldn’t have come. “Nothing, it’s fine, sorry—"

“Conner.” Clark reaches out and grabs his shoulder, turning him to look at him; Conner freezes until he lets go, because he and Clark are getting better but he’s still not used to the contact. He tries smiling, even though Conner can’t copy him. “You don’t have to leave if nothing’s wrong. You want to just come inside?”

He’s not sure he wants to, but the thought of going back to the cave, to M’gann and the mess that he left there, is even less appealing. So he steps into the apartment that feels so familiar already and goes to the couch, takes the spot that’s become his, and waits for Clark to sit down across from him. 

He doesn’t. “I was just making tea. Do you want any?” 

Tea has calming properties, Conner remembers, and glances down at his hands where they’re digging into his jeans. He could probably use some. “Yes please.”

Clark works in silence, and Conner closes his eyes and just listens to him moving around the kitchen— the soft clink of glasses against the countertop, the running water, his soft footsteps because he’s not wearing any shoes and Clark is always halfway-floating. It should be comforting, maybe, should remind him that this is his brother, but… but that didn’t always mean anything. He was always Clark’s blood. Clark chose him to be his brother, the same way M’gann chose him to be her boyfriend. They’re things that were given and they can be taken away. 

It’s the taking away that has him tearing at his jeans. He can feel the little holes in his jeans start to get bigger but he can’t make himself stop. He can control this. Just this. Just how hard he digs his fingers into his jeans.

“Conner.”

He opens his eyes and stares down at his feet instead of looking up at Clark, so he can barely see when Clark sets a cup down on the table in front of him. 

“Careful, it’s hot.”

It’s meant to be a joke but he can’t laugh. He loves how Clark smiles and makes stupid jokes like that, and they’re conditional, he can lose them, he should leave now while he can…

“Conner?”

“Something’s wrong with me.”

It doesn’t trigger anything like it feels like it should have, to finally say the words that have been eating away at him all day. If anything, it freezes the silence into something brittle, something he can break if he breathes too loudly. He wishes he was a mind reader like M’gann so he could know what that means, because he doesn’t want to look up at Clark. If he looks at him like he did outside Cadmus, he’s not sure he can take it. 

Finally, Clark sits down in his spot, sets the tea down on the table, and turns toward him. “What do you mean?”

The words are frozen in his throat. If he says them, he can’t take them back, it could change everything they’ve made in the last year…

“Conner.” Clark reaches for him, puts a hand on his shoulder until he looks up. He was expecting, afraid that Clark would be angry at him for showing up suddenly or stalling; he’s completely unprepared for how his eyes are searching his face, how he suddenly looks like Superman, on the verge of action. He’s _scared._ “What happened? Are you okay?”

Conner swallows, feeling ashamed for worrying him so much. “I… I got in a fight with M’gann.”

He can feel when Clark deflates, the hand on his shoulder relaxing before he finally lets go of him. Clark sighs, brushing his hair back from his face, although he doesn’t look completely relieved. “Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath. “I almost had a heart attack, Conner. That’s not something wrong with you. That’s normal. Most couples have fights.”

“Sorry.” But he still feels unsettled, because Clark doesn’t know what’s been running through his head. He’s not safe yet. “But… it was over something stupid.”

Clark’s eyes on his are steady, waiting. The only reason they can get along, he’s sure sometimes, is because Clark is unnaturally patient. “Why is that something wrong with you?”

“We…” He swallows what he’s beginning to suspect is tears. “We fought because… something’s wrong with me. With my head. I don’t…” He doesn’t know what the right word is— no, it’s worse than that. He knows it. “I’m…”

 _Say it._

“I think…” He almost chokes on it, so when it comes out it’s as a breath. “I think… I’m broken.” 

Clark is quiet for a second, and then he picks up Conner’s tea and places it in his hands so he’s forced to take his hands off of his knees. He can’t drink it, but he can at least focus on not shattering the cup. It’s something. 

“What happened?” He asks. 

There’s a quick thought in his head that he shouldn’t tell Clark this. It’s private, it’s personal, and it’s… kind of embarrassing. But it’s a little late for that, now. “She… We had the cave to ourselves. And…” 

Clark takes a sip of his tea too fast and chokes a little. Conner feels his face turning red and puts all of his energy into _not breaking anything._

“Ah,” Clark says delicately, and he deserves a medal of some sort for managing to make the single syllable sound understanding and not like he wants to bolt from the room. This is veering dangerously from ‘little brother’ territory to ‘son’. But Conner doesn’t know who else to talk to about it. “And… was it… your first time?” 

“…We still haven’t.” 

He can still remember it so clearly; it makes him burn. It was so _stupid._ It was just like it was in all of the movies he watched, the romantic comedies that M’gann has memorized— he’s sure that was part of why she was so excited, when the League didn’t coordinate right and they were left with no supervision for the first time in months and Kaldur went to visit Atlantis and the rest of the team went to hang out in Gotham. 

It was literally perfect. M’gann stood on tiptoe to kiss him, he ran his hands up her sides because he loved the feel of her skin and the way it made her kiss him harder, she pulled him into her room and telekinetically shut the door behind them…

And then it starts to get blurry. He can’t feel her anymore, he can only hear his heart beating in his ears, and his stomach is twisting like something inside of him is rebelling; he lets go, backs away from her, and she looks confused, struck, _hurt._ He did that. He hurt her by pulling away from her when they talked about this, when he said yes and he meant it all the way up until he didn’t. He’s supposed to want her. He thought he did. 

But he feels sick, just remembering how it felt when her fingers fumbled at his belt. He’s never felt that with M’gann, never been so panicked around her when she usually makes him feel calm and safe. 

“Did you change your mind?” Clark says. “Because that’s okay, you’re allowed to do that. You’re allowed to wait as long as you want.”

Conner’s throat is so tight it feels like he’s not breathing. Even Clark is saying _when._ It’s supposed to be _when._ He’s supposed to want to sleep with her, his beautiful girlfriend that he loves so much that he daydreams about staying with her forever. 

But he doesn’t love her like that. The way he’s supposed to.

The cup cracks, a hairline fissure in his hands, and they both freeze, staring at it. It hasn’t fully broken, not yet, but he knows that it’s close. 

Clark takes it out of his hands— he still isn’t looking at his face, it’s bad enough to say these things out loud, he doesn’t want to see himself being judged, too— and carefully takes Conner’s hands in his. He doesn’t usually do that, and the second that he’s holding them, Conner realizes that he’s trembling, just barely. He had thought it was just under his skin. 

“Talk to me, Conner,” Clark says, gently, and usually Conner feels his muscles tensing to run when Clark talks to him in that voice that he reserves for kids who are scared and need to be calmed down, wants to pull free when he tries to hold him still, but right now he can admit he needs it. “What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared.” A lie, but it’s instant, to deny it.

“Then what are you thinking?” 

_There’s something wrong with me._

“I… I didn’t want to sleep with her.” 

“That’s what you said. That’s fine.” 

Conner nearly curls his hands into fists in Clark’s grip. He’s not _listening._ “No. I didn’t.”

Clark pauses, backtracking. “I’m lost, Conner.”

“I didn’t change my mind. I _didn’t want to sleep with her._ ” The more times he says it, the more times he thinks it, the surer he is. He’s not changing his mind, he’s not waiting, he’s not unsure of what he did so much as _why._ He swallows, composes himself, and grips Clark’s hands to ground himself and is reassured when he doesn’t so much as twitch. If he’s staying through this, then… maybe he’ll stay through this, too. “I don’t want to sleep with her.”

There. There it is. He exhales, feeling dizzy, and waits for Clark to pull away from him. 

He does the opposite; his hands tighten on Conner’s. “Conner. Look at me.” 

When Clark uses that tone, he listens. He braces himself, sick to his stomach all over again. He’s going to tell him that he’s right, something is wrong with him, it’s basic human instinct and if he doesn’t have it, it has to be because something in his head is broken…

Clark’s eyes are firm, but there’s no judgment in them. No uncertainty at all. He’s steady. 

“Listen to me carefully,” he says. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you.” 

It’s such a staggering sense of relief that hits him— but uncertainty, too. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just saying it because he’s supposed to? He wants to be able to read his mind, to know how much of this is real, if there’s a second hit coming when he’s not bracing for it. “But… I’m supposed to want it.” 

“Most people do, but some people don’t. And that’s fine.”

That’s not what it sounds like from everyone he talks to. Wally has barely been with Artemis for a few months when he’s been with M’gann for almost a year, but Wally had come bouncing in to tell him and the other guys the morning after he and Artemis first slept together, looking like he had won the lottery and achieved world peace overnight. It ‘wasn’t classy’ to give any details, and it made Conner uncomfortable even hearing the mention of it so they kept it vague, but he had been so _happy._ “I’ve never felt so connected to someone,” he said dreamily, Kaldur and Dick agreeing and comparing and congratulating him, and Conner had felt a pit in his stomach that he didn’t understand when he thought about what it would be like to sleep with M’gann. He thought it was nervousness, because it was a big deal. He thought it was anticipation, maybe. 

Now he knows what it is. And if he doesn’t want that connection… something has to be wrong with him.

“But you said…” 

“I assumed.” Clark’s smile twitches into something rueful. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I make mistakes, you know.”

“Not very often,” Conner tries, but his throat still feels too tight, things are still shifting and he’s afraid to see where he will be when they settle. “But… I’m already…” 

“You’re what?” Clark frowns at him. “You’re allowed to know when you know, the fact that you’re young doesn’t make any difference.” 

That’s not what he was thinking, and that means he has to say it out loud. “What if it’s because I’m… not normal? That they just… made me wrong.”

Clark’s face abruptly darkens, but he doesn’t pull back, he leans forward. “Listen to me,” he says, and he sounds angry but it’s a good anger, Clark gets angry for people and it makes Conner a little warm inside that he’s someone Clark will fight for, even when he’s this… not broken, apparently, but still something. “There’s nothing wrong with you because you’re a clone. And _especially_ not this.” 

Conner feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and blinks them back. “Really?”

“I promise.” Clark puts a hand on his shoulder. “And this isn’t going to change anything. You’re still my brother and I still love you.” 

He’s still not quite used to hearing that, but it helps. Not completely, though. Clark is only half of the problem. “And M’gann?”

Clark doesn’t immediately reassure him this time like he has the other times; he falters, and Conner waits and feels more and more like he’s going to throw up with each passing second. He understands, Clark can’t read M’gann’s mind, but he wants to hear it anyways. He needs to hear _something._

“She might be… disappointed,” Clark admits after a long moment. “But the important thing now is to talk to her. She’s probably just confused, just like you.” 

“But what if it matters to her?”

Clark’s expression is slightly pitying. “Then you’ll have to work it out between the two of you. But we need to have faith in her, too. She loves you, whether you choose to be intimate or not. You know that, right?” 

He does. He can tell it all the time, when he’s with her: how she makes his favorite foods, how she makes him feel complete and secure and safe, how she always has his back. That doesn’t have anything to do with what happened at the cave. That’s… real. 

Conner shakes his head. “I’m an idiot.” 

“Hey. None of that,” Clark says sternly. “We didn’t teach you what we should have, so if anything I’m sorry that you had to find out the hard way about asexuality.”

Conner blinks. “…Asexuality.” He has a huge vocabulary from what he was taught in the pod, but that word is brand new. 

“That’s what it’s called, if you love someone but aren’t… attracted to them. We can look into it more, but if I’m hearing you right, you’d be asexual.” 

“Asexual,” Conner repeats, just feeling how the word rolls off his tongue, trying to make it sound right. Seeing if it _fits._ “I’m… asexual.” It feels so much better, to know that there’s a word for it, that it might be uncommon enough that he hasn’t heard about in a year of living but not so uncommon that he’s alone. It feels right. _Click._ “Then… I’m asexual.” 

Clark smiles. “And that’s great. Okay?” 

“Okay.” It doesn’t feel great, not yet, but he’s trying. He manages to smile back. “Thanks.” 

Clark starts to move toward him, but drops his hand off his shoulder again and sighs. “I keep forgetting you’re not a hugger. I’ll remember eventually.” 

Maybe it’s just because he’s been panicking for hours, but a hug actually sounds kind of nice right now, so when Clark stands up, Conner stands up with him and leans in.

Clark gives nice hugs. Maybe it’s just because he’s the only person who gives them that’s taller than him, or the only one stronger, but they just feel secure. He can feel him breathing, knows when he chuckles that it’s only because he’s content and not because Conner’s doing anything wrong. “You okay, kiddo?”

“Better now.” But he still feels a pit in his stomach when he thinks of going back to M’gann that keeps him from letting go. “Will you… help me talk to M’gann? I don’t know how.” 

“You do. She’s still your girlfriend. But of course. _After_ you drink your tea and calm down.” He and Clark let go at about the same time, and Clark ruffles his hair affectionately and turns away. “And there’s leftover cake in the fridge from Jimmy’s birthday party, too. I tried to take a slice for you and Lois made me take half the cake. How did you become her favorite so fast?” 

This time the smile feels real. Feels _right._ “I’m everyone’s favorite. Including Ma and Pa.”

“…Get out.”

Conner laughs.


End file.
